Our original plan was a two-day hike of the Robert Frost Trail, but because of the sort of obligations that arise when leaving a place for a long time, in my case, a drive to Alaska for the summer, we had to settle for one day. Our plan? To see just how far we could push ourselves on the trail using the Robert Frost as our proving grounds. We hadn’t run in weeks—the end of the semester busyness kept us more indoors than we liked. We assumed we would make it around thirty miles which was just over our longest daily mileages. So we set up water caches every ten miles and hit the trail by 7 powering through the ups and downs of the Holyoke Range—a familiar and enjoyable stretch.

In recent years, Max has been my go-to trail running partner—it’s hard to find anyone who wants to run as far as I do in our circle of friends. We talked about everything on the trail—family, future plans, goals and aspiration, communion with nature, personal philosophies, childhood and getting older.

For us both, we’d be graduating from Hampshire College, moving on to new and exciting ventures. While walking along the Robert Frost, I was reminded of the many memories I’d made in these woods. Over the years, on my own and with various classes, I had been to many of the places Max and I passed through—the Lawrence Swamp and Mount Toby with Noah Charney’s Field Naturalist class, Mount Orient and Wendell State Forest with Karen Warren’s classes, the Holyoke Range with my Uncle John. In a sense, the trip provided closure to my time at Hampshire.

Around twenty miles, our bodies were feeling beat from the undulating topography of the Hadley/ Amherst area. We were getting cold and hungry and the conflicting inner dialogue was in full volume: Why the hell are you doing this Joe? There is no way you’ll make it ten more miles… Don’t disappoint Max… You definitely can’t do this… There are worse things in the world… Maybe if I trained harder I’d be able to make it farther, but I haven’t so I might as well give up… But we ate a meal, engaged in more conversation and pushed on. We felt similarly around thirty miles. “Hey Max,” I said. “I just want you to know that if you want to give up, I wouldn’t be bothered.” He said the same and we continued.

Near mile 45, it was like we were in trail limbo. Not only were we tired from hiking more than we ever had in a day, but we were over two hours into the darkness of night following orange blazes by headlamp and we were sleepy-tired now. I thought I was going to die—and the trail seemed like it’d never end. Max tried making conversation, but I could only focus on each step. So, he started whistling. Familiar tunes made steps easier and I began to feel a lot less hopeless. In the cool misty night, the only thing I heard was Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. After the namesake song, Max transitioned into “With a Little Help From My Friends” like on the album. I’m not sure if he whistled it on purpose, but the song carried me to the end. At mile 47 and fifteen hours later in Wendell State Forest, we had made it. We both beat our personal records by over twenty miles—not bad—it was much more than we imagined we’d do. We fought our against our negative inner dialogue and told each other that we could do it—and so we did.

Trip Highlights: seeing a moose, bard owl, and a porcupine. Pigpen boulders, the old UMOC cabin near Mount Toby, old cellar holes, Puffer’s Pond. Diverse ecosystems—swamps, ponds, farmland, riverbanks, mill ponds, dense forests, deep ravines, and wooded ledges.

For more information on the trail: http://www.amherstma.gov/DocumentCenter/Home/View/610